I am a Primitive Man-Chapter 648: Ceramic pipe

After coming up with the idea of a Weng City (a fortified gateway enclosure), Han Cheng suddenly felt a sense of clarity.

Strictly speaking, however, once the new outer wall was built, referring to the old wall as Weng City would no longer be entirely accurate.

Typically, a Weng City is a small, fortress-like structure built as an extension of a city gate, closely connected to the outer walls. Its advantages are obvious—when enemies attack, defenders can feign weakness to lure them inside, then seal off both the city gate and Weng City's entrance, effectively trapping the intruders.

According to Han Cheng's current plans, the new outer wall would be constructed at a considerable distance from the existing wall. Given the large gap and lack of direct connection between them, it wouldn't fit the definition of a Weng City at all.

If he were to assign a more accurate term, "inner city" would be a passable choice—similar to an imperial city built within a capital.

Of course, considering the modest scale of Green Sparrow Tribe’s walls, calling it a city might be an overstatement. Inner courtyard would be a more appropriate term.

As for the new outer wall, it could just barely qualify as a city wall. After all, as the old saying goes, a city spans three li, its outer defenses seven li.

The newly planned wall would be 2,000 meters long and 1,100 meters wide. By the standards of the Spring and Autumn period, it could indeed be called a small city.

Han Cheng mulled over these details in his mind, then wrinkled his nose slightly—if he decided to keep the old wall, his conceptual illustration would have to be redone. Many of his previous plans would need to be adjusted.

For someone who wasn’t exceptionally skilled at drawing, this was far from an enjoyable prospect.

After some hesitation, he ultimately chose to keep the old wall.

The benefits were undeniable: it would save time and labor during construction, and it would also bolster the settlement’s defenses.

In the event of a powerful enemy attack, if the outer wall were breached, the tribe could still retreat behind the old wall for a second line of defense.

Another advantage was how it would simplify the handling of the slave quarters.

The slaves in the tribe were a logistical challenge. Under Han Cheng’s previous plan, once the new wall was built, their quarters would have to be relocated outside the settlement.

However, tearing down and rebuilding the slave quarters would always be a troublesome task.

By keeping the old wall intact, this issue was immediately resolved.

The slave quarters could remain where they were, still within the range of archers’ arrows, and in times of crisis, they wouldn’t be positioned in the most vulnerable area.

While they were indeed slaves, Han Cheng had no desire to see them die needlessly.

After all, living slaves could contribute to the tribe’s labor force, whereas dead ones were of no use beyond turning to ashes.

Lying in bed, Han Cheng continued pondering for a long time before finally drifting off to sleep.

The following day, he retrieved the painstakingly drawn conceptual illustration and hesitated for a while, unable to bring himself to tear it up.

Even if it no longer served its original purpose, it could still be kept as a decoration.

So, after finishing breakfast, Han Cheng took his brush, ink, paper, and inkstone, and once again shut himself inside his room.

The Shaman, without his usual rabbit in his arms, carefully examined the discarded conceptual illustration inside the house. After gazing at it for a while, he even reached out to gently touch it, a hint of fascination in his expression.

After some time, he raised his head and looked toward the grand, blue-brick, tile-roofed houses. A wave of emotion welled up in his heart.

To him—and everyone in the tribe—this design was already incredibly impressive. And yet, the Divine Child wasn’t satisfied?

He planned to create an even better version?

If even the illustration that failed to meet the Divine Child’s standards was this astonishing, then what kind of masterpiece would the new one be?

Inside the room, Han Cheng bent over his desk, quietly writing and sketching, modifying his plan based on the ideas he had developed the night before.

This time, he made significant revisions compared to his previous design.

The entire inner courtyard would serve a single function: a residential area, along with a central plaza and a communal dining hall.

Storage for grain would be moved to the outer city, where he planned to construct two additional walls between the inner and outer walls. These divisions would separate the outer area into three uneven sections.

The highest ground would be designated for grain storage. The western section would be used for livestock, while the remaining space would house various workshops and storage for hay and other materials.

With this arrangement, flammable materials like hay would be separated from the residential district by walls, significantly improving safety and security.

Of course, to accommodate this design, new gates would need to be opened in the old wall, connecting it to these different sections. This would make movement more convenient while also enhancing security measures for slaves living outside.

"The first time is always the hardest, but the second time gets easier, and by the third, you’re a master."

This saying applies to many things, in many places.

Having gone through the process once before, Han Cheng worked much faster this time. Within just ten days, the new design was completed.

As expected, when the final illustration was revealed, it received unanimous praise from the tribe.

Those who had lived in the settlement for a long time had developed an emotional attachment to the old wall.

Seeing it preserved in the new plan—and even appearing more refined than before—filled them with joy.

Even the slaves in the quarters were delighted when they saw the new design.

For the first time, they would be within the protection of the walls…

Two days after completing the new blueprint, Han Cheng went to find Hei Wa, who was still tinkering with molds. He asked Hei Wa to set the mold work aside for now—there was something else he needed him to do.

Of course, saying set aside didn't mean the mold-making process would stop entirely. By now, four people in the tribe had learned to make molds.

Although they weren’t as fast or skilled as Hei Wa, their work was still functional.

Like many things, taking the first step was the hardest. Once Hei Wa had broken through that barrier, making molds was now just a matter of time and practice for the rest of the tribe.

What Han Cheng now wanted Hei Wa to work on was ceramic pipes.

Though he wasn’t an expert in city construction, Han Cheng had lived through too many modern summers where even a short burst of heavy rain could turn streets into rivers.

His experiences had given him a deep appreciation for the importance of proper drainage systems.